And again Rodriguez lamented his hard ambition
and his long, vague journey, turning away twice from happiness;
once in the village of Lowlight where happiness deserted him, and
here in the goodly forest where he jilted happiness. How well
could he and Morano live as two of this band, he thought; leaving
all cares in cities: for there dwelt cares in cities even then.
Then he put the thought away. And as the evening wore away with
merry talk and with song, Rodriguez turned to Miguel and told him
how it was with la Garda and broached the matter of horses. And
while the others sang Miguel spoke sadly to him. "Master," he
said, "la Garda shall never take you in Shadow Valley, yet if you
must leave us to make your fortune in the wars, though your
fortune waits you here, there be many horses in the forest, and
you and your servant shall have the best."
"Tomorrow morning, senor?" said Rodriguez.
"Even so," said Miguel.
"And how shall I send them to you again?" said Rodriguez.
"Master, they are yours," said Miguel.
But this Rodriguez would not have, for as yet he only guessed what
claim at all he had upon Shadow Valley, his speculations being far
more concerned with the identity of the hidalgo that he had fought
the night before, how he concerned Serafina, who had owned the
rose that he carried: in fact his mind was busy with such studies
as were proper to his age. And at last they decided between them
on the house of a lowland smith, who was the furthest man that the
bowmen knew who was secretly true to their king.
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